This Isn't Me
by Tie-dyed Trickster
Summary: In which a slightly more serious look is taken at gender-bending. NOTE: This is fic contains sex between an established m/m couple. If that is not your thing, please move on to the next fic, and I hope it's more to your liking. :) Cross-posted on AO3


This Isn't Me

 _Note: Generally for my gender-benders, I write with either the concept that the characters are at least mildly gender-fluid, or ignore the concept of body dysphoria. In this one I'm not doing either. I will say up front: this is a Delightfully M-Rated, so there will be sex in this. However, this will not be a case of sex 'making it all better,' though nor is it going to be traumatic (because I don't do either of those things). There will also be some minor personal misgendering right at the beginning – this is done on purpose, and is a result of mental turmoil._

 _One of my headcanons for saiyans is that they tend to be very possessive in their speech patterns towards their mates – 'my man/woman' or simply 'mine' are common things to call your partner, usually when addressing them more than when talking about them to others, and it's expected to be a mutually done thing. It's sort of a combination pet-name/declaration of loyalty – 'you are mine, I am yours.' Very romantic stuff. Yamcha finds it a little weird, but he goes along with it and uses that terminology sometimes because he knows how happy it makes Raditz. I also sometimes headcanon that saiyans are often a bit rougher in their displays of affection than humans – the affectionate head-butt is a thing. Raditz and Yamcha don't do this often, but occasionally one of them will._

 **Thanks so much to danhasotps on tumblr and AO3 for betaing this for me! 3**

Yamcha hesitated, then slipped off the white king-fu jacket and the tight white tank top that had been underneath it to stand half naked in front of the bathroom mirror, knowing what he'd see but hoping, on some level, that this time it would be different. No slightly narrower shoulders, no slightly wider hips, no distinctive curve between the two and _definitely_ – he gulped and closed his eyes – definitely no small breasts on his chest. On her chest. The past month had made it abundantly clear, she was female all the way now, physically at least.

And what a _delightful_ experience that had been, discovering first-hand exactly why Bulma had always grumbled about hers. It hadn't hurt particularly (thank kami), it had just been… deeply unsettling.

 _Deeply_ unsettling.

Leaning on the counter with her hands, Yamcha swallowed, letting her hair fall over her shoulders and partially obscure the sight in the mirror. It had all been so sudden, so unexpected, she hadn't even really noticed it at the time. They'd been fighting a magic-user, something they hadn't ever really done (ironic, considering how often they called upon the dragon balls, really). The little twit had had a wand of some sort, kept shooting random spells at people, and-

He hadn't realized what had happened, just that his sense of balance was off, and even that hadn't taken more than a minute or two to adjust to, and- and there hadn't been _time_ to notice, because the battle had been shifting slowly but surely towards the city, and the bastard had already turned Goku and Vegeta to stone, and the guy didn't care about collateral damage or who he hit, had no agenda but causing as much chaos as possible…

They'd destroyed him in the end – him and the wand both, without ever learning the name of either. And it had taken a wish each to restore Goku and Vegeta, after which Goku had looked at him, tilted his head to the side, and said "Hey Yamcha, what's up with your chest – it's bumpier than normal."

This had been followed by screaming (yelling (screaming)).

She snorted. Her face hadn't changed that much, and what exactly had changed, what made it look more feminine than it had, was hard to pin down. In fact, wearing something heavy and loose – like her kung-fu jacket – over a tight shirt made it almost impossible to tell that she wasn't still a _him_. Her power, her ki, they hadn't changed a bit. Her hands were smaller, but as strong and calloused as ever. She was still Yamcha, Lord of the Desert, Master of the Wolf Fang Fist. And it could have been so much worse – she'd seen what had happened to some of the trees that had gotten hit. At least she was still human. And they _knew_ the dragon balls worked against these spells, she just had to wait-

"Did the counter do something to offend you?"

Yamcha started slightly as arms slid around her waist from behind and a chin came to rest on top of her head. Looking up she found Raditz looking back at her in the mirror, a vivid green streak starting at his left temple showing where he'd been grazed with a spell. His gaze was calm and a little concerned. She bit her lip and looked down at where she'd been applying enough force to crack the countertop.

"No." she stopped, made a face at the sound of her voice – low for a woman, but still high for her, for _him_.

Raditz's expression grew more concerned and he laid a cheek on top of Yamcha's head. "My man…"

"Don't call me that!" Yamcha spat, suddenly sick of denial, sick of pretending she was okay when she wasn't, even if no one had asked her to. Pushing out of his arms, she tossed her hair over her shoulders and gestured at herself with one hand. "Does this look _male_ to you?! Because it doesn't to me! I'm a woman, a _woman_ and- and- and oh kami, I'm so scared." The rage vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving her feeling cold and helpless, in spite of her strength. She shivered and hugged herself, shuddering at the still strange feeling of her breasts resting on top of her arms. "There's people out there who would _kill_ to have this happen to them – so why did it have to happen to _me_? I hate this. I hate it and- I miss you. I miss being close to you."

She looked away, embarrassed at having admitted it. Raditz had been there for her, but in a distant way, more like a close friend than a husband, and at first it had been helpful, but at this point…

She squeaked in surprise as a hand caught her chin and she found herself being gently kissed. "My man…" Raditz breathed against her lips as they broke apart slightly, "It doesn't matter how much magic you have on you, it doesn't matter if you stay like this forever, you're still mine, my man, my strong, beautiful man." He pulled Yamcha close to him. "I didn't want to hurt you – I've never seen you so scared before, and I didn't want to make it worse – especially after what you did to Roshi."

Yamcha snorted wetly (and damn it all, she- _he_ was crying again). "Old letch had it coming."

"I was impressed with your restraint," Raditz said seriously, though his eyes sparked with ill-concealed mischief.

Yamcha laughed a little at that, and leaned into his husband, breathing in his musky-warm scent, bringing a hand up to rest on his chest. He started a little when Raditz's tail slipped around to hook under his knees and lift him up higher, though it wasn't a huge surprise – Raditz had been pulling this trick for years. It made kissing easier, and it was familiar, comfortable, and, from the look on the saiyan's face as he leaned in, that was exactly what he'd been going for.

This kiss was much more thorough than the first one, and when Yamcha broke off for air Raditz apparently took it as an invitation to start working his way down the human's neck, sucking and licking and nipping until Yamcha moaned, feeling his face flushing. Raditz halted at the sound and looked up guiltily.

"Sorry, mine, I forgot myself a little… I'll stop if you want."

Yamcha stared at Raditz and considered the possibility of another eleven months of celibacy in conjunction with the unfamiliar but still demanding heat growing between his legs and came to a decision. "Bedroom."

Raditz's eyebrows rose a little at that. "Are you sure you want to-"

Yamcha grabbed a handful of hair on either side of Raditz's face and pulled their foreheads together in a sharp but not overly painful click. "Bedroom _now_."

Raditz swallowed, his own face heating up to match Yamcha's. "Okay."

They made it to the bed in a tangle of limbs, Raditz sucking on Yamcha's collarbone while Yamcha made some incredibly ridiculous mewling noises and wrapped his legs around Raditz's waist, gasping as bits of him he was still unfamiliar with rubbed and sent sparks racing up his spine, encouraging him to pull at Raditz's shirt to get it out of the way. In response, Raditz set him on the bed and shucked it off, then slid off his kilt and underwear. Yamcha hesitated, then slipped off his own pants, leaving his boxers on in a sudden wave of nervousness and shyness.

Kneeling in front of him, Raditz cupped his cheek in one hand, smiling slightly. "Mine. My man."

Yamcha shivered at the endearment, at the warmth that ran through it, and slid a hand under the waistband of his boxers. Raditz slid a hand under the other side and, gently, working together, the underwear slipped past Yamcha's hips, down his legs, to finally be discarded in their usual place on the floor. Raditz knelt between his legs, ran a hand over one of Yamcha's breasts. Yamcha gasped, feeling his nipples tightening, the heat pooling in him, much deeper than normal, but still comprehensible, still good.

Raditz watched him, a faint smile on his face, a hint of concern lingering in his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this? I could probably finish you off with a little more fondling if you prefer."

"What about you, then?" Yamcha raised an eyebrow and nudged Raditz's own growing arousal with one foot, grinning as Raditz turned redder.

"Not gonna lie, I will expect a hand job."

"You'd be okay with that?"

"Yes."

"Oh." Yamcha considered for a moment, absently rocking his hips a little as he did so. "I think… not inside? Part of me's a little curious, but the rest…" he looked away, embarrassed.

"The rest is scared that you really won't be a man any more if you do?"

Yamcha nodded sharply, once, and felt Raditz's hands on his shoulders.

"Okay. But whatever you decide, however you decide you want to do this, you're still you, okay, mine?" Raditz pulled Yamcha towards himself a little, leaning forward to lightly rub noses, "I just want you to be comfortable." Then he went in for a proper nuzzle, cheek to cheek, one hand drifting down to trace Yamcha's inner thigh, right along the line where abdomen met leg and oh **god** , that _still_ felt _really good_ , and then-

-then Raditz got a slightly wicked look in his eye and something warm and furry was rubbing between Yamcha's legs, not going _in_ , just _against_ , and Yamcha was pressing himself against it and rocking his hips because oh **god** that was good and then suddenly his hips just wouldn't stop thrusting down, but that was okay because it _felt so good_ …

Then he was panting in Raditz's arms as the last tremors of bliss worked their way through his system, the faint rumble of Raditz's purring a pleasant, soothing vibration. The purring stopped when Yamcha slid a languid hand between Raditz's own legs and began to stroke, half-seated on one of his husband's legs and still hazy with afterglow, really focussing on nothing more than how good he felt and making his partner feel like that, too, a task he succeeded in as he leaned against Raditz's chest and sighed ' _my_ man' in conjunction with a particularly firm tug.

Raditz came, quiet as ever in such circumstances, and slumped, curling around Yamcha as he did so.

The following months were hard. Being the wrong gender… it was uncomfortable on a certain level that never truly went away. And it was a relief, a palpable relief, to feel all his anatomy correctly accounted for again.

But it wasn't as bad as the first month had been. And, for the moment at least, the concept of gender had fallen entirely to the wayside, leaving only a sense of closeness and acceptance.

OoOoOoOoO

 _I wanted to write it. That's… really the only explanation I have. This is meant to be about Yamcha accepting support and coming to the realization he can be intimate and still acknowledged as a man._


End file.
